The Other Woman
by A E Chelsea
Summary: What if Sherlock Holmes had had a sister? A series of snapshots.
1. A visitor to baker street

**Author's note: I do not own any of these people except for Martha. Everyone else is the property of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (lucky).**

**This was partially inspired by a dream I had after I read His Last Bow.**

April 24, 1891

Mrs. Hudson was indeed a long suffering woman, but there was another woman in Mr. Sherlock Holmes's life that could hold that claim. Unfortunately for Mrs. Hudson, the aforementioned woman was standing on the doorstep to 221B Baker Street.

"Come now, Mrs. Hudson. Can't you let me in too wait for him to get back? Some of his clients have waited hours and hours for him," the woman pleaded.

"Are you a client?" asked Mrs. Hudson in return.

"Come now, Mrs. Hudson..."

"Are you a client?"

"No but surely..."

"Then don't waste Mr. Holmes's time." With that Mrs. Hudson shut the door.

A very unladylike stream of curses escaped the other woman's lips. She'd have to do this differently.

***

"How was France, Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"

The detective was unsurprised to see the tall, thin woman sitting in his chair. She had dark brown hair, and grey eyes perched close together, over an aquiline nose.

"Hello Martha, Mrs. Hudson told me she had shooed away a rather peculiar woman. I take it you got in through the downstairs window?" Sherlock Holmes smiled broadly.

"Yes no doubt you can tell because of the state of my shoes or some other trifle."

"No, you always get in through a window."

"Only if all other means of entrance are made difficult, Mr. Holmes you still have not answered my question."

"You are angry with me I see. The affair in France was resolved in a satisfactory manner for the French government. May I ask what I have done to arouse your anger?"

Martha stood up and began counting off on her fingers. "Firstly you have told your landlady to send away everyone who came to the door. You seem to be afraid of something. Secondly, you look even more tired and pale than usual. You've been wearing yourself more thinly than usual. I assume you've been once again missing sleep and meals. You have no idea how much that worries me my dear brother! Lastly, your knuckles are burst and bleeding. Once again it seems to me you are in trouble. Please, Sherlock tell me what's wrong! I'll help if I can, dear brother."

Sherlock Holmes seemed to debate for a moment then he sat down in his chair.

"Very well Martha. You are I take it aware of Professor Moriarty?"

"Sherlock! Oh my dear brother, _he_ is after you!"

"Yes, he was in this very room this morning," with that Sherlock Holmes told his sister everything about his plan to trap Moriarty.

"Very well," Martha said straightening up. "Tell me what to do and I'll do it."

"Nothing quite as dramatic as some of the help you sometimes give to Mycroft, sister dear. I just need you to take some things for me to your residence. I'll meet you at your back door around eleven this evening."

"What sort of things?"

"Just some items of clothing, stage make-up and such, in your wardrobe they'd hardly look out of place."

"Never mind whatever you have. It would look to conspicuous if I were to leave here carrying a bag or a package. I'll just lend you one of my old ones. I have one of an Italian clergyman that would probably fit you."

"All right Martha. I was wondering how I would be able to leave with my costume anyway."

"I assume Mycroft is also offering his help to you in this matter?"

"Yes. He is being quite instrumental, and helpful in this matter."

"So will you be spending the night in my house or in Mycroft's rooms?"

"Neither. I have some plans laid, and all will be well."

"What will you do between now and eleven? You can't stay here, it isn't safe. Even a woman could enter through the windows."  
"As you have so recently demonstrated. I will be seeing Watson and asking for his assistance in this matter."

"Doctor Watson! Sherlock, this is not one of those adventures, as your friend refers to them. This is a matter of life and death! A final problem!"

"Martha, trust me. I am aware of what I am about to do."

"You know what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men, Sherlock. Lend me one of your coats and one of your hats."

The manner in which Martha said those words invited no argument, Sherlock Holmes attempted one anyway.

"Martha, I would think there would be no need to remind you that there have already been several attempts on my life..."

"The coat and the hat please," Martha winced at the expression her brother had. "Please Sherlock; I've done worse jobs for Mycroft."

Sherlock Holmes groaned, his sister was stubborn, "Just be careful Martha."

"I will Sherlock."

Clad in her brother's coat and hat Martha left the way she had come. She was followed for a short while, until a gust of wind blew her hat off and revealed the length of her hair, which had until that point been hidden in the hat. A fairly rudimentary attempt at deception, but when there was a knock at her back door at eleven that same night Martha knew it had worked. She handed her brother the package containing the apparel, facial hair, and necessary items of make-up for an Italian clergy man.

"Sherlock, where are you going to go?" Martha asked trying to put off her brother's leaving.

"The continent, it will only be for a matter of days."

"Just be careful brother."  
"I will, sister."

Sherlock Holmes disappeared into the London fog, leaving his sister, a long-suffering woman, to worry and fret over him.


	2. In Mycroft's study

**Once again all canon characters do not belong to me. They belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

**This takes place after the adventure of the Empty house.**

**Thank you to Westron Wynde for thier review.  
**

It was a warm spring day, early in the April of 1894. All London was abuzz with the Park Lane mystery. The sole exception was in the study of Mr. Mycroft Holmes, and there the tension had mounted all through the morning, and had now reached its peak.

"Check, Martha." Mycroft Holmes glanced languidly at his younger sister.

Martha scowled as she moved her king out of danger. Mycroft carefully considered his next move, Martha played chess almost as well as he could and he was unsure whether she was truly upset or simply pretending. One could never tell, the time she had spent on the stage had served her well.

The game continued in silence for a few more minutes, with neither sibling willing to lose to the other.

A knock on the door of the study interrupted them. A timid young girl, new to Mycroft's household poked her head in around the door.

"Yes," Mycroft growled, he had been busy contemplating a capture of Martha's queen, and the maid's knock had disturbed his concentration. The girl shrunk back.

"Begging your pardon sir, but a man is at the door. He said that he has an appointment with you sir."

With a speed surprising both Martha and the maid, Mycroft moved towards the window and out at the street below. A smile crept up his face.

"Yes, he does, you can let him come in."

As the maid scurried away Martha's right eyebrow rose questioningly.

"Should I leave, Mycroft? Or will we be able to finish our match?" she asked.

"You can stay, as for our match...we may not finish it," said Mycroft capturing Martha's queen with his remaining knight.

"I understand," Martha nodded. "In that case," she moved a pawn. "Checkmate."

"Hello, sir, would you and the missus like to take a look at my books?" The speaker was an old and bent man, neatly dressed, holding some books. Martha did not contradict him; she merely leaned back in her chair and began a quiet observation. There was something odd about him.

"This is my sister," Mycroft protested.

"Oh. My apologies," he tipped his hat to Martha. "I brought the Catullus sir, like you asked, and The Origin of Tree Worship as well." The man had a croaking voice, and to Martha appeared quite familiar. _If he just stood straighter_ she thought _and that nose..._

"You have Catullus? Oh I always liked to read his works," Martha picked up the little volume in her hands and began to look it over. She turned to the bookseller.

_I ought to have known. _Martha thought. _It wasn't like Mycroft to expend money on unnecessary things. I thought he was being sentimental._ Aloud she added, "Hello Sherlock. You are quite vain my dear brother. You have spent too much time with Doctor Watson. I think you have the impression that no one else has your deductive abilities. I assume you had a good reason for not writing? Or did you think I would be unable to deduce that you were among the living?"

"When did you deduce it?" The great detective asked.

"The moment Mycroft started to pay rent for Baker Street. A dead man after all needs no rooms."

Mycroft looked at his sister. "When did you learn I was paying rent for Sherlock's rooms?"

Martha laughed. "Sherlock isn't the only one with irregulars. My students see a surprising amount of things on their way to lessons. A man of your girth and bearing is an unusual sight."

Mycroft shrugged nonchalantly.

The clock in the study struck 11. Martha looked at it.

"Well brothers, I must be leaving now. Sherlock, when you are finished with whatever it is you are doing at Park Lane, let me know if you can take tea with me tomorrow. I will be quite interested to hear of how your little joke on Watson goes."

***

After Martha had left the two brothers were silent for some time.

"The stage lost a great actress when our sister retired," mused Sherlock Holmes.

"Indeed, So do we tell her that we know that she didn't?" asked Mycroft.

"And have her lecture us on how irresponsible it was of us not to enlighten her?"

"True. Let us stay silent, while her pride recovers." Mycroft glanced at the chess board, his pride also needed to recover. Knowing Sherlock, he probably hadn't bothered to practice during his absence.

"Sherlock, do you have time for a game?"


End file.
